


Question and Riposte

by 2edge4u



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Anon Prompt, F/F, Fencing AU, Rio olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2edge4u/pseuds/2edge4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Hollis travels to the Rio Olympics to cover women's gymnastics, but finds herself covering women's fencing instead when LaFontaine becomes ill and can't do it. She somehow manages to get an interview with the elusive fencing champion Carmilla Karnstein and the article Laura is writing takes a back seat to whatever is going on between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Question and Riposte

**Author's Note:**

> So, a lovely anon requested this one. I want to be clear that I know as much about fencing as I do brain surgery so I apologize in advance if any of my terminology is incorrect. 
> 
> Told from Laura's perspective.

To say you feel a little out of your comfort zone in this stadium would definitely be an understatement. You were all set to cover women’s gymnastics this year and you’ve been preparing for this trip to Rio for months. When you were younger, you thought that maybe you could have gone to the Olympics; it was your dream. You started training extensively with Coach Vordenburg when you were five, hoping that all the pain and abuse he put you through would have been worth it. Your parents hated the dirty old man, but just wanted you to be happy so they sold almost everything they had to put you through training. You did really well, placing amongst the top competitors at every meet. The future looked promising, until everything was ripped away from you.

One night your dad picked you up from the gym after your team got back from a competition in Prague. You were so excited about placing first in your age bracket in uneven bars, that you couldn’t stop talking long enough to realize there was something very wrong. Instead of going straight home like you usually did, he decided to stop to get you some ice cream. Being that you were training heavily year-round, a treat like this was very rare so your mind started racing. At first he said it was to celebrate your victory, but even at the age of ten, you could read your dad like a book.

He let you talk for a while longer, telling him all about how you had absolutely slain your opponents. You were often underestimated because of your doe eyes and tiny frame, but when it came down to it, no one stood a chance against you. After a while longer of endless chatter about your accomplishments, he finally told you. Your mother had taken up a second job working overnight at a textile factory in town. The cost of your training was so expensive, your parents took odd jobs and did anything they could to pay for it.

The night of your competition, there was a terrible accident at the factory. There weren’t very many safety regulations back then and the factory bosses were always more worried about their bottom line than the people working for them. These people were absolute tyrants and worked everyone the full ten hours in terrible heat, poor ventilation and without any breaks whatsoever. That night, one of the machines malfunctioned and caught fire. The blaze spread quickly throughout the room, igniting every loose thread and piece of fabric in sight. Because the bosses got tired of the employees sneaking out side doors to either skip out of their shift or even to go out for a smoke, the doors had been chained from the outside effectively trapping everyone inside.

Your father cried over his chocolate sundae as he told you that your mother had died. You found out a few years later that she initially died from smoke inhalation but her body had been burned as well. You often prayed that she didn’t feel any pain as she went because in your young mind, it was all your fault. If you hadn’t had such a naïve dream of reaching the Olympics one day, your mother wouldn’t have sacrificed all her time, money and eventually her life to pay for it. You never forgave yourself for her death, quitting gymnastics for good and never looking back. It hurt so much to know that your dream ripped your family apart so you set out to find an entirely different career which is what led you to this moment.

You worked your way through high school at a pastry shop, saving every penny you could to put yourself through university eventually you graduated with your journalism degree. You were content with writing pieces about local events and even a few investigative pieces, resolving yourself to a safe and boring life when your editor found out about your past experiences with gymnastics. He really didn’t give you an option on whether or not you could go. It was either you get on that flight to Brazil or find a new job so you conceded and stepped back into the world you had run so far away from.

You went about this assignment so methodically, trying desperately to fight off any emotions rising up like bile burning its way up your throat. You had the questions for each competitor written neatly on color-coated note cards and studied them extensively on the plane as to not deviate from your plan. All you wanted was to go there, cover the events of the game, interview some athletes and go back home to your boring life in Austria.

You had been in Rio for a few days, interviewing people and taking in the sights when you received a call from your friend LaFontaine who had traveled there with your team.

“Hey, Laura. I have a problem I need your help with.”

“What’s up, LaF? Everything alright?”

“Not really. It looks like I won’t be able to cover the rest of the games and Betty is gonna kick my ass if we don’t have anything to report on fencing when we get back.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Well, I’m stuck at the Souza Aguiar Hospital and I think I’ll be here for a while. My Portuguese isn’t so great but I think they’re saying I’ve contracted malaria.”

“Oh my god, is there anything I can do? Should I come up there?”

“No, I’ll be fine eventually. I just need you to cover my ass for work. I was hoping that if Kirsch can handle the gymnastics side of things, you would be willing to cover fencing for me. I know you’re much more knowledgeable about gymnastics, but I’m kind of desperate here. I don’t want to lose my job because I got bit by a mosquito.”

“Of course, we’ll take care of it. I’ll do some research tonight and please don’t worry about us. You just need to concentrate on getting better so we can all go home.”

“Thanks, frosh. I owe you one. My questions are saved on the desktop of my laptop and that’s pretty much all you need. Just familiarize yourself with all the fencing lingo so the athletes take you seriously. By the way, I’ll give you a million euro if you can land an interview with Carmilla Karnstein.”

You’ve heard the name before, but never paid much attention. Fencing has never really been your thing so why should you care anyway?

“Who?” you ask.

“ _The_ Carmilla Karnstein. She’s the undefeated fencing champion from Austria. She’s already won four gold medals in her career and she only started competing professionally less than ten years ago. Come on, you’ve seriously never heard of her?”

“Uh, not really. I’ll look into her though and I’ll try my best to meet with her.”

“Well, good luck with that. I hear she’s kind of a bitc… Ow, what the hell!!!” LaF yelled out, cutting themselves off. “Look, I have to go. They keep poking me with these big ass needles. Let me know if you need any help from me. Thanks again, L. I don’t know what I would have done if it weren’t for you.”

“Don’t worry about me, you just take care of yourself so you can get out of there and back to work.”

* * *

 

After a long night of research about a sport you know nothing about, you find yourself in this arena, covering the preliminary matches; keeping track of who is advancing and who looks promising to win a medal. There were a few intense matches that actually kept you on the edge of your seat. Mel Callis from France absolutely dominated against Danny Lawrence from the United States, advancing to the semi-finals easily to face Carmilla Karnstein and based on what you’ve seen so far, she may actually stand a chance to win. It’s amazing how these women can be so athletic in those decked out beekeeper suits. They’re so light on their feet, jumping back and forth, attacking their opponent without mercy. The winner of this round will go on to the finals face Lola Perry from Germany who is said to be the front runner for the gold this year.

You’re exhausted and hungry, wanting desperately to get out of here and go back to your hotel but you promised LaF that you would cover everything and try for an interview with Karnstein. So you grab yet another coffee and find your seat in the press area to watch the Callis-Karnstein match. This is the last event for the night and thankfully you’re only covering the individual events so you only have to stick around for three bouts. You should be back in your hotel and asleep in no time.

Callis and Karnstein walk out onto the piste, both appearing to be in the zone, unaware of what’s going on around them. They both have their masks on already and you regret not doing at least a little more research because you still don’t know what Carmilla looks like and if she leaves the piste after the match without taking her mask off, you’re concerned you’re going to have a hard time finding her to ask for an interview.

They take their places, and you find yourself feeling anxious for some reason. The announcer is spouting off facts about each athlete but you couldn’t care less. You can find all that out after the fact. You just want this to be over.

“En garde! Prêtes? Allez!” the referee yells out and Mel lunges quickly, invading Carmilla’s space like a blood-thirsty lion, but Carmilla isn’t fazed in the slightest. Karnstein is quick to execute a textbook parry-riposte, blocking Mel’s attack and scoring a point. Other athletes you’ve seen tonight would have celebrated this victory, but Carmilla couldn’t seem to care less. She simply takes a step back, looking over to her coach Matska Belmonde before turning back to face her opponent.

They go back and forth for the first two bouts, attacking and disengaging each other skillfully while the points rack up. During the one-minute break before the third and final bout of the match, Karnstein finally takes off her mask and oh god, how could LaF not tell you. Not only is she a world famous athlete, but she’s drop dead gorgeous. You’re awestruck, staring as she takes her hair down to run her fingers through it and pull it back up. She closes her eyes as she pulls the loose curls back into a high bun and you’re sure you’ve never seen anyone more beautiful in your life. If you thought you were nervous to talk to her before, the now present weight on your chest is making it difficult to breathe. You’re not sure you can do this.

She takes a water bottle from her coach, taking large gulps before she turns to give it back and incidentally makes eye contact with you. the aggressive demeanor she wears so well vanishes for only a moment when she notices you’re looking too and flashes you a quick smile and puts her mask back on. This is going to be harder than you thought.

Going into the third bout, the score is 10-8 in favor of Callis. You thought for sure that she would win, considering that she seems to be much more aggressive than Karnstein, but you were all wrong. It’s like Carmilla was intentionally saving her energy for the last moment, successfully landing an attack four seconds into the bout. Each time the ref yells “Allez!” she lunges forward, forcing Callis further back onto the piste and basically backing her into a corner like a predator would do to their prey. The clock runs out when they’re tied 11-11 so they take a quick break before entering a one-minute tie breaking bout. The first person to land an attack wins the match, but since Callis came into the match with priority, if neither of them score then she will win by default. Something tells you that’s not going to happen.

You’re trying to calm your nerves, not understanding what has you so worked up. You gather your things into your hands, wanting to be one of the first people at the press gate to greet the athletes when she takes off her mask and finds you again. She looks at you with a raised eye brow and it makes you more nervous than ever. Your hands start to shake and everything falls out of your hands and onto the floor. You reach down to pick everything up, completely mortified that she just witnessed your full-blown awkwardness before she even met you. when you look back up, you see her laughing quietly to herself and you can’t help but sink down into your seat. How could this get any worse?

It only takes eight seconds for Carmilla to attack and win the match, shutting down Mel’s dream of Olympic gold. Before you could get caught up in the hysterics of cheering along with the crowd, you jump from your seat and run to the press gate, hoping she’ll see you there and come over to talk to you. You can only hope for the best.

You’re standing there, congratulating the other athletes as they walk by. Even setting appointments with a few of them for interviews before you leave the city when you see her. Her coach is all but dragging her out of the arena, trying to get her away from the crowd of reporters behind the gate. She’s yelling something like “I won’t have her be distracted by the likes of you!” as they make their way through the crowd. They’re almost out the door and out of your sight when for some reason, Carmilla turns around and finally sees you standing there. You see her place a hand on her coach’s shoulder, stopping their movement and whispering something to her. Her coach looks angry, but Carmilla doesn’t look like the kind of person that would take no for an answer.

She turns around and begins to walk toward you. You try your best to calm your nerves, to keep your cool in front of this woman. She walks right up to the gate, standing directly in front of you. The reporters all around you are pushing and shoving, trying to get to her when she stops them with a simple wave of her hand. Most of them take the hint and turn their attention back to Callis and leaving the two of you alone to talk.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

“Did you enjoy the match?” she asks.

“I did, very much. You were incredible out there.”

“Hm, I thought you liked it. I haven’t seen you around before and that’s strange because these reporters follow me around like vultures so I pretty much know them all.”

“A friend I work with got sick and I’m covering for them. This is my first time covering this sport,” you answer honestly.

“Interesting,” she says and smiles at you again, causing your skin to flush and your hands to twitch.

“Um, I guess so. This might be kind of forward but I was hoping that”

“Of course I’ll go out with you,” she cuts you off before you could even finish.

“Oh my, uh… that’s not what I was going to ask. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to”

“Easy, cupcake. I was kidding. What were you going to ask?”

“I was hoping you would be available for an interview some time before the finals tomorrow. I know it’s really short notice but it would mean a lot to me and I really need this.”

“Anything for you. My coach keeps me on a pretty strict schedule but I guess I could sneak out of my room for an hour or two after she goes to bed. Stop by my hotel tonight?” she asks and you want to throw up. LaF made it seem like she was untouchable but she seems to be throwing herself at the opportunity to talk to you. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Yes, definitely! Where are you staying?”

“I’m at the Hotel Fasano. Meet me at the bar around midnight?” she asks.

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

 

A few hours later you’re waiting at the bar for Carmilla. You’ve changed into something more casual so you’re not sure if she’ll even recognize you. You’re nursing your second drink when you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back. When you turn to most likely smack the offending hand away, you find Carmilla standing there looking incredible in tight black jeans and an even tighter black shirt. If all the training she does for her sport is what keeps her in such incredible shape, maybe you should take up fencing too.

“Hey, cutie. I hope you weren’t waiting long. I just couldn’t get away. It’s like Mattie was guarding my door or something.”

“No, it’s fine Ms. Karnstein. I didn’t mind waiting.”

“Ms. Karnstein? Really?” she laughs.

“Um, is that not what I should call you?”

“Hell no. Call me Carmilla, please.”

“Okay… Carmilla. Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I was looking forward to it. What should I call you by the way?”

“I’m Laura Hollis; reporter for the Österreich Journal back home in Austria.”

“You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re from Austria?”

“I didn’t think it would make a difference,” you admit.

“Of course it does. We both live in Austria. This changes everything, cupcake.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“I like your name, Laura. I really do. It’s just that cupcake seems to fit you better. You’re sweet,” she says before taking a sip of the water the bartender brought her moments ago.

You cough to hide your embarrassment, turning to face your note cards so you can regain your composure. This is supposed to be a professional interview but she has you feeling like a complete mess.

“Ok. Well, do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Isn’t that what an interview is? You ask questions and I answer them,” she says with a smirk. You suddenly get the urge to kiss that smirk right off her face but this is not the time or the place. You’re working for crying out loud. You can’t have thoughts like this, no matter how beautiful she is and how much she flirts with you.

“Alright then, Carmilla. Let’s start with the basics,” you say as you turn on your tape recorder. “when you first get into the sport?”

She leans back, looking up before answering “my mother was determined I become successful at something so she started me at a young age; five I think.”

“Were you always into fencing? Did it interest you as a little kid?” you ask.

“Oh god, no. To be quite honest with you, I’m still not all that into it. Like I said before, this was all my mother’s idea. I fought it at first, but I realized along the way that it was just easier to go along with it. Turns out I’m pretty good at it so there’s that.”

“Pretty good? I would be shocked if you didn’t win another gold medal tomorrow. You’re incredible, Carmilla.”

“I’m kind of hoping for the win too. Maybe five Olympic gold medals would finally get my mother off my back and I could live my own life.”

“Well, I hope it works out for you. Uh, let’s see…” you say as you flip through the notes that LaF left you. You feel her hand on top of yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Look, why don’t you email me your questions. I can answer them and send them to you on the flight back home. I would kind of like to talk about anything but fencing right now.”

“I thought we were here for an interview,” you say.

“That was honestly just an excuse to see you. I promise to give you everything you need for your article. I just want to talk to you about anything else right now.”

She’s looking into your eyes and you see something you can’t quite understand. It’s been pretty obvious that she’s been flirting with you from the moment her eyes first found yours in the arena, but this is different. She actually wants to spend time with you.

The two of you spend the next hour and a half talking about anything and everything but fencing. You learn all about what it was like to grow up in such a competitive family. It sounds like she was pressured into every decision she’s ever made by her mother in an attempt to become more successful that her brother Will who suffered a knee injury at the London games a few years ago, tragically ending his career. You told her all about your Olympic dreams when you were younger. She seemed so surprised that you had just quit. You never talk about your mother, but there’s something trustworthy in her eyes so you told her anyway.

Upon your confession, it’s like the mood in the room changed. She didn’t pity you or offer an unnecessary apology like most people do. She simply held onto your hand as you told her your deepest and most haunting secret. The comfort she offered you in that quiet hotel bar was one of the few times in recent years where you felt safe from your nightmares. You barely know this woman, but you’re so comfortable around her and you don’t ever want this conversation to end but she has the biggest match of her life tomorrow evening so you two have to cut the night short.

“Will you be at the match tomorrow?” she asks, still holding onto your hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I was thinking maybe we can meet up again after, hopefully as a celebration or something.”

“I would really like that,” you answer honestly.

“Great. Here’s my card. Ugh, that sounds so formal. Anyway, my email is on here so you can send me your questions and my cell is written on the back. Text me so I have your number.”

“Ok, I will. See you tomorrow?” you ask, standing up and straightening out your shirt.

She takes your hand again, pulling you closer before leaning in and brushing her cheek against yours and kissing it lightly. “I can’t wait.”

When you get back to your hotel room, you waste no time in taking a hot shower and getting ready for bed. The events of the day and the interview or whatever that was with Carmilla had you very tense and you’re beyond tired. You’re lying in bed, setting an alarm on your phone so you can make sure to get to the Olympic Stadium on time when you decide to send Carmilla a quick text, just so she has your number.

 **Me:** Hey, this is Laura. I had a great time tonight. Just wanted to make sure you had my number.

You roll over, wrapping yourself in the down comforter thinking that she’s most likely gone to sleep when your phone vibrates on the bedside table.

 **Carmilla:** I had a great time too. I can’t wait to do this again. Sleep well, cupcake.

You fall asleep with a huge grin on your face, remembering the feeling of her hand in yours and her soft lips on your cheek. You’ll have to thank LaF for this tomorrow.

* * *

 

The next day you call the hospital to get an update on how LaF is doing.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“I feel like I’ve been run over, but I’ll get through it. How the fencing coverage going?”

“Great, actually. I’ve got a lot of information to write a good enough article for Betty and I actually met with Carmilla last night for an interview.”

“Bullshit!”

“Nope. I got her to answer a few questions and I emailed her the rest this morning. She said she’ll send me everything I need for her story on the flight back home.”

“How did you manage that? No one is ever able to get her for an interview?” they ask.

“Well, she actually approached me after her match with Mel Callis last night. We met at the bar in her hotel and talked for a few hours.”

“Way to go, frosh! I knew you could get it done. Wait, if you talked for a few hours how did you only get her to answer a couple questions?”

“She didn’t want to talk about fencing much. She said she just wanted to talk to me.”

“Wow, Laura. Sounds like Karnstein has the hots for you.”

“I highly doubt that,” you say, fighting off the realization that LaF might be right.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone and she just walked right up to you? She likes you, dude.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I’ll get everything together for you after I receive her interview questions and send it all to you for approval. You just feel better and I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Mhm, you go have fun.”

“Right.”

* * *

 

Just as you’re getting ready to leave the hotel for the stadium, you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

 **Carmilla:** You still coming tonight?

 **Me:** Wouldn’t miss it

 **Carmilla:** See you after, right?

 **Me:** I’ll meet you at the press gate. Good luck tonight, even if you don’t need it. :)

 **Carmilla:** See you then, cutie.

You swallow the butterflies back down into your stomach as you head out the door and make your way to the stadium. As excited as you are for the match itself, you can’t wait to see Carmilla afterward. This is definitely not what you expected when you had agreed to get on that plane to come here, but you couldn’t be happier about the events that led you to this moment.

The match between Carmilla and Lola Perry is progressing very quickly, but the competition is intense. Carmilla is incredible, but Lola gives her a run for her money. All the same attacks that Carmilla landed on Mel last night are quickly disengaged by Lola and now that they’re going into the third bout with a score of 9-8 in favor of Perry, Carmilla looks nervous. She’s standing over by her coach, seemingly ignoring all her advice and trying to psych herself up for the next three minutes. She takes off her mask, gulping down some water when she looks over to the press seats and finds you for the first time tonight. When you smile and wave at her, her entire demeanor changes. She goes from nervous to confident; defeated to ready for anything in an instant. She smiles at you before putting her mask back on and walking back to the piste for her last bout of this year’s Olympic Games.

They both take their positions, ready for the fight of their lives. Whomever walks out of this match the champion wins the gold medal and they both want it for their own reasons.

“En garde! Prêtes? Allez!” the ref yells and Carmilla lunges forward before Perry can even register what happened landing a perfect attack to her chest, evening the score. Carmilla pumps her fist in the first tiny hint of a celebration you’ve seen from her so far during the games. They go back and forth for the next few minutes, each of them landing a few good attacks bringing the score to 11-9 in favor of Carmilla with only eleven seconds on the clock. It’s still possible for Perry to even the score if she attacks quickly, but you doubt Carmilla will let that happen, considering what’s really at stake; her freedom.

The match is over within seconds of the ref yelling “Allez!” Carmilla jumps forward, flicking her wrist lightly to disengage Perry’s attack, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps moving forward, causing Perry to stumble backward and lose her concentration and Carmilla lands the final attack of the night just below her sternum, winning her fifth gold medal and you find yourself on your feet, screaming her name along with the rest of the crowd. She did it. She won and maybe she’ll be able to live her own life now.

When everything calms down, you make your way to the press gate to greet her. Your body is trembling with excitement and you can’t wait to congratulate her.

She’s trying to fight her way through the crowd of people, desperate to get away from all the pats on the backs and unwanted conversations. She pauses for a moment with her coach for a photo opportunity who is doing enough celebrating for the both of them. Just as she smiles for her last photo, she sees you.

“Excuse me, Mattie. I have to go,” she says and walks away from the crowd and toward you.

“Where are you going!?” her coach yells but Carmilla could not care less.

Carmilla walks right through the press gate, pushing through the dozens of reporters that would kill for an opportunity to talk to her and right over to you. You worked up this whole speech in your head so you can properly congratulate her, but she clearly had other plans. She drops her bag at your feet, lightly grabs ahold of your cheeks and pulls you into the most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. The thousands of people in that arena disappeared and all you could feel was her holding onto and her lips on yours. When she pulled back, you realized your hands were just hanging in the air because you were too blindsided to know what to do with them. The reporters all around you had been taking pictures of the two of you, but she was still the only thing you could see and feel.

“Want to get out of here?” she asked and smiled, still a breath’s whisper away from your face.

Unable to find any words, you nod and she picks up her bag, taking your hand and leading you through the gate to the locker room. She changes quickly and takes you as far away from the stadium as she can get you. Her phone is ringing all night, her coach and team trying to get ahold of her but she could care less. You spend that whole night talking about your dreams and stealing kisses, hoping that what’s happening between the two of you will follow you back to Austria. You finally admit to yourself that she does like you when you realize you feel the same way.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the slight angst in the beginning. I didn't expect it either, but it just felt necessary for the back story. I actually have some ideas of how I could extend this by another chapter and an epilogue, but y'all will have to tell me if that's something you would want to read. This was way out of my comfort zone and fun to write since I'm merely a musician, but I hope I did this au justice and I really hope you liked it. Don't be a stranger! I always love to hear from you, even if I'm horrible at responding in a timely manner.
> 
> Love you all,
> 
> Monica


End file.
